


Quietspirit's Guide to Chilling the Hell Out

by hundred1000



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling, Gen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, all the love for everyone, banter banter everywhere, go to sleep hundred, i need to stop doing this in the middle of the night, joke title, quietspirit has that "stop and smell the flowers" philosophy, quietspirit is the chillest of the chill, scarheart doesn't get it until she does, scarheart needs a hug, take this seriously at your own peril, warning: readers may contract emotional diabetes, we stan fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 06:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hundred1000/pseuds/hundred1000
Summary: this is about my original characters scarheart and quietspirit.scarheart is Tired with a capital T. quietspirit helps. spoilers: a nap may or may not be involved.





	Quietspirit's Guide to Chilling the Hell Out

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't meant to be romantic but if you wanna look at it that way nobody can stop you. it's all up to you to interpret. however, please keep in mind that quietspirit is sterile and about as close to asexual as a cat can get. enjoy!

“Don’t you have anything better to do than lay around all day?”

Quietspirit slowly opened one pale green eye to see a sapphire-blue one glaring down at him as he lay on his back in the grass.

“Not really,” he drawled, opening the other eye and grinning up at the spotted she-cat above him. “Uh-huh,” she scoffed, “Sure you don’t.” Quietspirit rolled over on his stomach and stretched, yawning extravagantly. “Aw, c’mon, Scarheart,” he purred drowsily, “I really don’t have anything else to do. Would I lie to you?” He blinked innocently. Scarheart rolled her good eye. “Yes,” she huffed. “Yes, you would.” The big tortoiseshell laughed. “Ouch. It’s always tough love from you, huh?” he teased, giving her his best smile. Scarheart smirked despite herself. Not even she could stay mad at Quietspirit. “Lazy furball,” she muttered, sitting back comfortably on her scarred haunches. The tom sat up across from her and flicked his white-tipped tail at her playfully. “Ohhhh, don’t be like that,” he grinned. “I’m not _being_ anything,” she meowed gruffly, batting his fluffy tail away with her paw. “I’m just telling the truth, and the truth is, you’re a dormouse.”

He smiled and waved his tail in a dismissive gesture. “What’s wrong with relaxing? It’s good for the spirit. And besides,” he interrupted himself with a yawn, “I’d rather be a dormouse than be stressed and tense all the time, like certain cats,” he added, pointing at his friend with his muzzle. Scarheart gaped, flabbergasted. “I am _not_ stressed and tense all the time!” she shot back angrily. “Aren’t you?” Quietspirit asked seriously. He wasn’t very good at reading expressions, and with Scarheart being tailless, it was all the harder to tell. It was perfectly likely he’d guessed wrong about the constantly alert ears, the graying hairs, the trembling limbs, the snappish responses. Some cats might think that Quietspirit was being sarcastic, but he wasn’t. Quietspirit didn’t do sarcasm. It wasn’t in his nature and Scarheart knew it. She heard the sincere question in his tone and it stopped her in her tracks. _Aren’t you?_ she asked herself. She’d never really stopped to think about it, but now she did, and she realized he was right. “Well, yeah, I guess,” she admitted, “But so what? What's wrong with being guarded?” Quietspirit tilted his head. “Well,” he mused slowly, “Isn’t it exhausting?” Scarheart stared blankly. “I mean,” Quietspirit purred gently, looking her right in the eye, “Aren’t you tired?” Scarheart hadn’t thought about “tired” in many, many moons. She opened her mouth and then closed it, opened and closed it again. “Well,” she meowed in a subdued tone, “Yes, but...” She trailed off, feeling confused and wearier than she could ever remember feeling. Quietspirit yawned again, and then Scarheart yawned, too. “So?” he asked languidly. “So...?” she responded idly.

“So, take a nap!” Quietspirit grinned. “Oh, no, I can’t,” Scarheart meowed hastily. “Sure you can, who’s stopping you? You don’t have anything better to do, right?” he meowed around another yawn. Starclan, just watching him was making Scarheart sleepy. “Just what are you trying to do, anyway? Hypnotize me?” she accused, fighting another yawn. “No, I don’t think so,” Quietspirit meowed dreamily, “But wouldn’t it be cool if I did?” Scarheart groaned in exasperation, frustration, and exhaustion. “Fffffine,” she moaned, finally allowing herself to flop to the ground. “Starclan’s kits, if you aren’t the most fuzz-brained, stone-headed, sleepy slug I... ever...” She gave up on the insult as her eyes closed. Quietspirit let out the biggest yawn yet and lay down facing Scarheart, pulling her to his chest with sleepy, fumbling paws, her small, battered frame nearly swallowed up in his large, soft one. “What’re you doin’,” she mumbled. “Napping,” he whispered. “You’re _cuddlin’_ ,” she corrected sluggishly. “Semantics,” he murmured. “Hmph,” she grunted. “Mmm,” he purred sleepily, “For a little old bag of bones and fur, you sure are comfy.” “Shuddup, Quietspirit,” she purred huskily. “For once in your life, live up to your name.” Quietspirit chuckled softly and then he was out like a light. And Scarheart followed right on his tail.

**Author's Note:**

> this is so short and bad hhng. i made myself sleepy writing this. thanks for reading, lemme know what you thought in the comments. i'm gonna go pass out bye.
> 
> edited it oops


End file.
